


A gift of gold

by Ziriath



Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett
Genre: Book: Feet of Clay, Book: Men At Arms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-09
Updated: 2018-03-09
Packaged: 2019-03-29 02:25:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13917411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ziriath/pseuds/Ziriath
Summary: It is more blessed to give than to receive, and Lord Vetinari knows it. A short story about a certain unwanted device.





	A gift of gold

-''A gift, you say'', said Lord Vetinari, peering out of the window to the yard, where a large box wrapped in paper with pattern of railway company logos was placed on a cart. ''We should have a look there, but I am afraid, I know well, what's inside.''

* * *

 

_YEARS EARLIER_

-''It's not as scary as you might think'', said Lord Vetinari as he hobbled out of the elevator and met his new secretary at the bottom of the stairs. ''Quite like being lowered into a dwarf mine, but not that fast.''

Judging by Drumknott's face, this comparison did not help the younger man to gain any trust in hand operated wooden boxes hanging above bottomless shafts.

-''But I must say, I would rather not use the elevator, if I did not have to.''  As wizards told him, they did their best to heal this leg - but the brain usually does not catch up with the body immediatelly. And if the brain thinks he should still feel pain and fall from time to time, after just a few days since the injury have passed, his body will do so. Especially in the times he realises he forgot somewhere his elegant walking stick, which his dear servants found for him in the gloomy labyrinth of palace chambers. With a silver skull for a handle!*.

Sometimes your own brain is no help at all. At least he felt like still having the leg. While the leg is attached to his body. Should he want anything more?

-''So, where did I end upstairs?...We were speaking about the wedding gift, right? So, I've heard Lady Ramkin wants to buy a swamp land that serves as habitat of some extremely endangered species of dragons. Endangered mainly because of their extreme ability to explode, I'd say. But its owner wanted to dry the swamp and turn it into fields, and refused to sell it due to inherited hatred between their families. What I've heard about her father and grandfather, I am not even surprised. As my clerks were more successful negotiators than she was, I got exchanged some lands – swamps for deserts, swamps for another swamps – and thus the land has been saved - and the dragons, may gods keep them...far away from my city -  as well. Lady Ramkin got a lifetime right to use the swamp as she wants to. Such gifts you can give to someone who can buy almost anything physical in the world..except good relationships with certain people…It was a gift for both newlyweds formally - but still I think I missed an opportunity to feel that, you know, warm in the heart upon gifting Vimes himself with something truly special...Their second attempt on wedding ceremony is tomorrow, but when I could not come up with anything by now.....''

-''If I was cynical enough'', said Drumknott, ''I would suggest some bottles of fine whiskey.''

Vetinari covered his mouth and chuckled.

They proceeded to a sun lit open yard, where a very large wooden box with an enormous violet ribbon was waiting to be opened.

When he was told he got a 'Get well soon' gift from his aunt, he expected something like a box of chocolates and a bottle of brandy. Even if you can buy more chocolate than you can ever eat, such gift will always be pleasant. Can it be a really big box of chocolates? Let's see.

Havelock untied the ribbon and two servants removed sides of the box. A whirl of wind caught wood wool wads, like it was tumbleweed on the sun-dried plains.

A box-shaped  tangle of swirly, preciously crafted goldened floral ornaments, fairies, winged fat children and dark red cushions and curtains (or carmine, as someone more interested in fancy narrative would say) was revealed, shining in the sunlight. Everyone present got tears in their eyes, though more from the reflected sunlight, than from sadness or joy.

As a set of ornamental carrying poles which were to be attached to the sides was found, Vetinari realised this is neither some sort of luxurious portable privy, nor, sadly, an enormous box of chocolates and brandy - but one of those litters used mostly by Klatchian merchants and sometimes other nobles who did not want to touch the ground. Usually a delicate hand in a lace glove holding  a fan, and a foot in a beautifully crafted shoe under a cloud of ruffle was seen sticking out from such transportation devices.  What did he even think? Chocolates would melt in the hot weather of last weeks.

Havelock has never imagined himself being transported in a sedan chair. The only time to be carried through the streets by other people, has to be his state funeral.

There was a letter inside the door. Vetinari read it with blank face, and several 'tsk' sounds. Then it seemed he wants to crumple the paper in his fist, but he folded it twice and put it in his pocket. He wasn't a man of theatrical gestures, after all.

\- ''She really knows how to motivate me to get better! Tsk! She, who said she would rather die, than not be able to ride a horse!''

-''How it got delivered so fast?'' asked Drumknott. ''I mean, the message had to be sent to Pseudopolis first, which takes at least two days...''

-''As soon as I could, I contacted her via wizards with a magical dark mirror communicator. Would you believe they can make it so small?'' he said as he made a rectangle with his hands. ''They say someone from time to time gets possessed from using it – but I did not believe them and wanted her to receive a message from myself first, before rumours and exaggerations will reach Pseudopolis in conventional ways. Afterwards Ridcully told me it was uncommon that I put the mirror down willingly, so they did not have to break my arms to get it back. Still I wonder if he was joking or not.''

-''Uh, I hope he was!'' said Drumknott and shuddered.

-''Though this is not an artwork I would appreciate'', continued Vetinari,'' and actually I find it fairly ugly and lacking any sense or taste, it's an artifact too luxurious and well made, so it would be a shame if it was left to be eaten by woodworms and moths. According the plaque down there, it was made in the finest of manufactures in Quirm. Neither Pseudopolis, nor Ankh-Morpork. I could almost say that it wasn't originally bought for me, and it already has seen several people and cities, don't you think so?''

-'' I've heard, their waiting list for anything custom made is so long one should better order a coffin, than anything else.''

Suddenly Vetinari smiled the way it seemed the top of his head is going to fall off.  Quite a rare sight.

-''Would you be so kind, Drumknott, and get this ... artifact searched thoroughly for some possible other surprises, then repackaged again and  prepared for tomorrow? It seems I found a perfect present!''

END

_* At first he wondered if it wasn't a bit childish choice – it looked quite like one of those insanely expensive props for wannabe vampires, after all – SILVER AND ENOBY** GOTHIC WALKING STICK WITH EVIL DARK LORD YORICK'S  SKULL FROM FORSAKEN VAMPIRE TOMB ABOVE EIGHT HELLS  for 50 dollars in YE VAMPIRE FROM NOSTERFERNET SHOPPE . But soon he realised it's something he can speak to, when there is no other audience._

_**In this variant actually tin and a black-painted haft from a shovel._


End file.
